


Pinwheel

by alienchrist



Category: Saiyuki, Saiyuki Ibun
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-29
Updated: 2011-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienchrist/pseuds/alienchrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beautiful moments like strands of dew on a spider's web. Nature is both peaceful and terrible. Two monks as different as night and day. A connection of a lifetime, a lifetime of obscurity.</p><p>Prompt: “All of Man’s works, all his cities, all his empires, all his monuments will one day crumble to dust. Even the houses of my own dear readers must - though it be for just one day, one hour - be ruined and become houses where the stones are mortared with moonlight, windowed with starlight and furnished with the dusty wind. It is said in that day, in that hour, our houses will become possessions of the Raven King…” (Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinwheel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [7veilsphaedra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/7veilsphaedra/gifts).



Toudai first saw Houmei on the night of a local festival, in the center of a small town he didn’t remember the name of. The red and yellow lanterns swayed, casting warmth on the merry crowd. Music seemed to come from all directions, speakers hung from street corners piped in a jangling, happy-obnoxious folk melody. In the center of the hurricane of noise and amusement was Houmei. He twirled and jumped with sure-footed grace that didn’t quite suit his knobby, thin build. Houmei had no partner, yet he smiled widely. He was part of the larger rhythm of the song, separate from the townsfolk but vital and beautiful just the same.

Only recently was Toudai constrained by destination. OIver the years there were constant towns and cities, each with their own set of traditions and problems. There were been other monks in unadorned robes, each with their own set of stories and ideas about faith. Toudai did not remember many of the details of his aimless journey. He shrugged off the names of people and places as easily as a dog shakes itself free of water. Detachment was one of his many disciplines, one he hardly had to train himself to use. It was almost more of an instinct than a skill.

Toudai stopped to watch the unusual, dancing monk. Houmei caught his gaze and wouldn’t let go. The smile on his face grew with quiet knowing, and his lips moved to form private, secret words. Toudai took a step forward to make them out.

Up close, Houmei was even more off-beat. Though he dressed in simple monk’s clothes, he wore his sandy hair chin-length, tied back with brilliant red ribbon. His dance moves were quickly paced and clearly ad-libbed, only vaguely resembling the ceremonial dances Toudai had seen before. As Toudai drew closer, Houmei’s smile grew wider, and again he spoke.

“What?” Toudai called out. He was only a meter away by then, though lines of dancers wove through all the space between them. “I can’t hear you!”

Houmei spoke again mid-pirouette. His robe slipped off his right shoulder. Straightening it upset his balance, and he stumbled. The other dancers pushed him out of their way, and Houmei was elbowed through the crowd until he was pushed nearly chest-to-chest with Toudai. His robe slipped off his left shoulder. This time, Houmei didn’t try to fix it. He looked up at Toudai. Toudai looked at his bare shoulder. It was thin as the rest of him, but the skin seemed quite soft. Houmei tapped his palms over Toudai’s broad chest to get his attention.

“I said,” Houmei repeated a third time, “You should buy me a crepe. I’m starving!”

It took Toudai a moment to absorb it. Then: “I’m not buying you a crepe!” he groused, irritated. “I don’t even know you.”

“Oh,” said Houmei, his face falling. “So you’re broke too.”

“That has nothing to do with it!” Toudai said through his teeth, pissed off that the stranger was right about him. “If you want hand outs, use a begging bowl.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Not my problem,” Toudai replied. He would have liked to have performed a perfect heel-turn, but the press of the crowd prevented him. It was more of a half-turn. “Have fun with your dancing,” he grumbled.

“I’m too hungry to dance,” Houmei whined, catching up to him and tugging on his sleeve like an urchin.

“Don’t care,” said Toudai, pulling away. The crowd was starting to thin, the dancers moving on down the street.

Houmei touched Toudai’s arm. “I might forget about being hungry if you’d dance with me.”

“I’m not going to stick around long enough for your sloppiness to rub off on me.” Toudai said as he walked away, “I have somewhere to be.”

“Right here,” Houmei said insistently. His tone of urgency halted Toudai as surely as the hand on his sleeve had moments ago.

Toudai stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“If you have somewhere to be, it must be right here, because this is where you are. If you were supposed to be somewhere else, then you’d be there.” Houmei explained as reasonably as one would a simple equation or change in weather.

“I really hate you undisciplined, wishy-washy, touchy-feely types,” Toudai said. “Getting places takes time.”

Evem Toudai’s mammoth height could disappear into such a large and colorful crowd. Houmei shrugged and rejoined the dance. He did not call for the other dancers to wait for him. He ran to catch up, and always stayed a little bit behind them.

~*~

Toudai stayed the night at a local monastery at the edge of town. It was a clean and austere place, but softer around the edges - and in the midsection - than Toudai liked. The monks were fonder of their tofu and rich stews than they were of brisk workouts, and their hand-copies of scriptures were all rather old. How was it so many taught their faith without the backbone of discipline? Toudai had long given up trying to change things. Every temple was run according to how its attendants saw fit, and even if he found it distasteful, it was not his business. In light of that, he typically would’ve abandoned their evening activities for meditation or training without a second thought. Tonight, he found himself glancing over every bald head, hoping to see a fluffy crop of wheat-blond hair tied back with red ribbon. When the entire evening proved fruitless, Toudai asked a middle-aged, well-liked monk.

“Did any of you go to the festival in the village today?”

“A few of us performed the opening ceremony, but that’s all. The villagers don’t really feel at ease with us around, and we’re not really supposed to get rowdy.”

Toudai eyed the outward curve of the monk’s belly and thought maybe it’d be better to get rowdy than to waddle toward another rice ball.

“Why do you ask?”

“I saw a monk at the festival. He didn’t shave his head, though. Must’ve just been a traveler, but as we’re getting close to fall, I thought he’d turn up here.”

“You must mean that troublemaker, Houmei. I heard he was hanging around lately.” The monk’s expression changed, like they were talking about garbage or something equally unpleasant.

Toudai frowned. “Is Houmei from this temple? Didn’t get along with folks here?”

“No, he’s from much further away. But he’s a pain in the you-know-what. When he stayed here last winter, he tried to get us to accept paper flowers in exchange for a bed, instead of doing his fair share of work cleaning. Then when he sat in on a class, he disrupted it with so many questions that the teacher kicked him out. The abbot was quite incensed. He demanded Houmei apologize, and the boy refused. So the abbot asked him not to return.”

“In this region, everything ices over at night, and that’s if you don’t get snow. You just sent him away into that?”

“He treated the whole temple like a joke! He said things like respect and lessons were just more ways to hold onto unnecessary things. He smiled constantly. His attitude was appalling. And - you didn’t hear this from me - but I heard he ran away from his master. Someone who’d taken him in and raised him from a young age, and he just ran away. Disrespectful.”

“Some masters beat their acolytes so badly they can barely stand afterward,” Toudai pointed out, “Or worse.”

As if he didn’t hear Toudai, the other monk continued. “The boy doesn’t take direction. I think we were all glad to be rid of his disruptive presence.”

“Compassion for all living things, right,” Toudai grumbled under his breath, heading toward the exit.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said I’m sick of this place. If I wanted to hear old biddies gossiping, I’d have stayed the night in a hen house.” Toudai let his voice rise enough so the monks milling nearby could hear him. “This place is more like a chicken coup than a monastery anyway. Except none of you are producing something as useful as eggs! Do some work outs, do some drills, run some laps for crying out loud. Because this...” Toudai indicated the pudgy monk he was just talking to, “Is an embarrassment.”

Toudai crossed the temple in only a dozen long strides. He pulled on his long grass poncho and hat and tossed his meager rucksack over one shoulder. “Enough already,” he muttered to no one in particular.

It was time to move on.

~*~

The downpour began without warning: a chilly, hard autumn rain breathing hints of a hard winter. Houmei got the fire started just as the deluge began, pouring down the mouth of the cave like a curtain. It wasn’t much of a cave, just a little one at the base of a rock cliff-face where the earth eroded away. He found it last winter, waiting out a blizzard with little more than the moss on the rocks to fill his stomach. He smiled at the little charcoal stick figures he drew to keep himself company those days, faded and smudged by the year's weather. It wasn't often Houmei returned to the exact same spot to camp, and it was comforting to see something he made something that endured, even if the months had already wicked away at it.

Houmei stared out at the gray and green. The sound of rain against the trees and the cold smell of water swept him into an old memory, standing on a pebbly beach, watching a hurricane move in to destroy the nearby fishing town. Out in the darkness and steel-gray ocean, giants seemed to walk, craggy and hewed by rain. When the light finally returned, he saw those figures were nothing more than standing rocks that were once part of the cliff side. Still, Houmei could never shake that first impression of his childish mind: the approach of something tall and unshakable, something elemental and imposing. It didn’t cause Houmei to cower, even at such a young age. Instead, it made him stand up straighter in the wind, staring out over the distance, intrigued, chin raised as if in challenge.

A solitary figure emerged from the forest, steadfast though browbeaten by the weather. That same sense of being called upon crackled down Houmei’s back like a jolt of static electricity. Plentiful were the stories of mischievous spirits fooling poor monks and taking advantage of their generosity, but there were just as many of the Buddha himself walking this world in disguise, or one of his disciples, or even the goddess of mercy. Though it was probably none of those things, Houmei was more than happy to wave a little, call out, “There’s room by the fire!”

As the shape became more distinct, Houmei identified the long grass raincoat and flat umbrella-hat marking a traveler. It was a man, a tall one. As he walked up, Houmei recognized his gait as well.

“Did you bring me a crepe?” Houmei asked as Toudai hunkered down under the overhang. The ends of Toudai’s hair were wet in despite his _kasa_. Though he maintained a stoic expression, Houmei saw Toudai was miserable.

“You and that damned crepe.” Toudai hung up his poncho at the far end of the cave so the drip wouldn’t leak on them later. He noticed Houmei hadn’t hung up a poncho, though at least he had a bed roll and a small knapsack of supplies.

Houmei made a face. “Next time you say hello, use kinder words.”

“Say something more substantial to me.”

“A man can’t eat substantial words,” Houmei pointed out.

A grunt was Toudai’s only reply. He had to bend over in half to hang up his poncho. Something caught his eye in the flickering firelight.

“Cave drawings?”

“Oh, I made those last winter.” Houmei crouched next to Toudai to point out each crude and faded charcoal smudge. “Look, there’s a bear. And there’s a flower. And there’s me.”

The drawing of Houmei was the most recognizable facsimile. A stick figure sat forlorn beneath a curved ceiling. Though the figure had no facial expression, its pose seemed lonely.

“That’s you, huh,” said Toudai, not sure what else to say.

“Wait.” Houmei picked up a little charcoal from the edge of the fire and drew a figure next to him, one so large it seemed to take up most of the cave. It had a lot of long, black hair.

“Now it’s us,” he said.

They sat together in silence for several hours. Toudai shared some of the taro-paste filled bean-curd puffs from the temple. Houmei shared the roots and nuts he foraged earlier, but Toudai grunted and refused them. They savored the food and watched the fire while the rain beat out a slow and steady symphony outside.

Houmei began setting out his bed roll and a ratty sleeping bag as the night wore on. “You don’t have anything to sleep in,” he noticed, glancing over as Toudai put out the fire.

“...” Toudai thought about the space where he hung up his poncho at the temple. His bed roll and blanket waited for him there. It was a little embarrassing to be reminded that he left in a tantrum of righteous indignation, even if Houmei didn’t know the truth. “You don’t have anything for the rain.”

“Lost my jacket,” Houmei said breezily. He unzipped the sleeping bag with some effort, wiggling inside. “Join me?”

“Are you kidding? I’d have a hard time fitting in there if it was just me.”

“Otherwise, you’ll be cold,” Houmei said plaintively. He pushed himself to the furthest corner of the sleeping bag. With a heavy sigh of annoyance, Toudai crawled in with him. He had no choice but to tangle legs with the smaller monk, his broad chest pressed to Houmei’s slender back. He couldn’t figure out where to put his arms until Houmei took hold of them, wrapping them around him like a shawl. He spooned against Toudai. The sleeping bag didn’t seem quite so small.

The ground was hard and rocky uneven, but Houmei was warm against him. It was almost comfortable. Shifting his weight, Toudai pressed his face into Houmei’s hair. It was soft as corn silk and smelled of the forest.

Houmei nodded off quickly, but Toudai couldn’t relax, afraid to stir and wake him. Sleep took a long time coming, but the sounds of Houmei’s soft and even breathing and rain on stone were respite of their own.

Morning arrived bright and early, birds calling out their joy at the newly-clear sky. Toudai groaned softly in his sleep. His senses were filled with warmth. He was hard, and pushing against something round and soft.

“Um,” said Houmei. “‘Scuze me. You’re poking me in the butt.”

...Someone was talking. Toudai grumbled something into Houmei’s hair, resisting wakefulness.

“I’m not offended or anything,” Houmei continued. “But I can’t move...”

Toudai woke up, and was aware of several things. He had an erection which he was happily grinding against Houmei’s backside. His face was pressed right to the crook of Houmei’s neck, and he was squeezing the smaller man like a plush toy.

In a calm manner that spoke of his years of training, Toudai slowly and wordlessly extricated himself from the sleeping bag. Though his face was stony as ever, it was quite red, and it was hard to look dignified when he had to crouch and crawl to get his sandals and poncho.

“Sorry,” Toudai muttered.

Houmei looked thoughtful. “...Gotta pee!” he said, and quickly exited the cave.

Breakfast was a sorry affair. Houmei agreed that Toudai ought to save some of his bean puffs, but the roots and nuts he offered to share were no more appetizing than the night before. Toudai watched Houmei chew fruitlessly on a carrot and puzzled on how his rump could be so round on such a diet.

“I bet you’re going up to the mountain temple,” Houmei said suddenly. “They put out the call to all who want a chance at becoming a Sanzo. They’re going to put us through those legendary tests.”

“You’re going too?” It was difficult to imagine Houmei stepping over his old master to obtain one of the sacred sutra.

“I thought it might be interesting. Hey, this festival might be the last we get to see in a long time. Would you come with me? And then we can be traveling companions.”

A pause to consider. “Are you going to make me dance or beg for crepes?”

“I was sort of planning on it,” Houmei admitted.

“I’ll go, but only if you promise not to do either of those things.”

Houmei smiled as brightly as the sun that shined through the rain-soaked evergreens.

~*~

The festival was every bit as bustling as the day before. The townsfolk’s spirits were unhampered by last night’s rain, the vendors hawked their wares in loud voices, and merry, twangy music sounded throughout the streets. As they passed through a particularly thick bit of crowd, Houmei held Toudai’s arm tightly. When the crowd thinned, he lingered like that. His mood was even more buoyant than the day before as he pointed out a pretty scroll or a glass-blower hard at work. Toudai found it difficult not to be similarly lifted by Houmei’s vivacity. A small smile found his face and didn’t leave.

Toudai slipped away while Houmei was busy chatting with the owner of a whirligig stand. He returned shortly with a folded confection piled with mounds of thick whipped cream, decorated with strawberries and unnervingly red syrup.

“Here,” Toudai said, shoving it under Houmei’s nose like it was some unwanted piece of trash.

“A crepe!” Houmei clapped with childish enthusiasm. “Is that strawberry?”

“It’s sweet,” Toudai said a bit too loudly. “I - I thought you’d like that.”

“Thank you!” Houmei said. He took the crepe, holding it oddly at arms length. He took Toudai’s arm again, and they resumed exploring the other shops. Toudai couldn’t help but noticed Houmei hadn’t taken a single bite of the crepe. After all that damn trouble...

“Hey! Hey you!” Houmei let go of Toudai to run ahead, crouching in front of a ragged youkai child. The kid, no older than four, looked ready to bolt. Impossibly quick, Houmei caught her by the arm just before she ran. “Are you hungry?”

The little girl sniffed loudly, and stared at the ground with big, dark eyes. It seemed she didn’t know how to behave when spoken to directly by a stranger. Or was it because Houmei was human that she was so wary?

“For you!” Houmei handed her the crepe with a grand flourish. The youkai girl stood holding it, staring at Houmei in confusion for a long moment until Houmei gave her a little nod. She took a big bite, smearing whipped cream from cheek to chin.

“Fanks Mifter Monk,” she said.

Houmei ruffled her hair. “Run along now. I think I hear your momma calling.”

“Yef fir,” said the girl. She ran as fast as her little feet could take her, holding the crepe in front of her like a sacred torch.

Toudai stood staring, trying to understand what he just saw. “You wanted that crepe so badly...”

“I’m allergic to strawberries,” Houmei said with a shrug.

“You could’ve said something.”

“But you were so kind to get it for me!”

“But what’s the point if you didn’t end up eating it?”

“Someone still got to enjoy it. Does it matter if it wasn’t me?”

Toudai wondered if Houmei’s ‘lost’ raincoat suffered a similar fate. “Are you trying to make me feel like an idiot?”

“You probably are an idiot,” Houmei said, “Don’t worry, so am I. I’m the biggest idiot of them all.” He stepped forward and took both of Toudai’s hands in his. Beneath the colorful glow of the festival lanterns, Houmei tippy-toed and kissed Toudai on the lips.

It was a long and perfect moment.

Houmei withdrew. “While we’re here,” he said breathlessly, “We should get you your own sleeping bag.”

“I swear I’ll never understand you,” Toudai said after a spell. His mind was still trying to catch up with the kiss, and now Houmei said they shouldn’t share a sleeping bag.

“Don’t swear, promise,” Houmei said, his hazel eyes going dark and serious.

“I promise I’ll ever understand you?”

“And I promise I’ll never understand you.” Houmei kissed him again, briefly, then disappeared into the crowd.

~*~

The first weeks of Toudai and Houmei’s journey were peaceful, punctuated with tiny sparkling moments, fragile as drops of dew on a spider’s web. They fell into an almost wordless routine as they traveled toward the Temple of Great Frost, following a river to its source in the mountains. Though they did not kiss or share a sleeping bag, Toudai was certain there could be no more complete a partnership. Most evenings, Toudai built the fire and Houmei foraged the food. They ate and joked about the small amusements of the day late into the night.

One starry evening, they sat around the campfire as usual. It was a chilly night, probably one of the last clear ones left in the year. Houmei huddled up to Toudai for his warmth. He made a small noise of surprise and pulled a bur from Toudai’s hair.

“When’s the last time you combed this?”

“Mm, dunno.”

“You can’t keep it this long and not comb it! You’ll get matted like a wild beast and have to cut it.” Clucking his tongue, Houmei pulled a pick comb from his satchel. He knelt behind Toudai and began working his way through the knots. He was not the least bit gentle.

“You’ve never done this before,” Toudai twitched, his jaw clenched.

“Your hair is so much coarser than mine,” Houmei remarked, forcing the pick through. Toudai grinded his teeth so hard it probably gave off sparks, but didn’t complain. He was, after all, a master of strength and endurance. His scalp was throbbing by the time Houmei finished, but Toudai didn’t have much time to brood on that. He was distracted by the light movement of Houmei’s fingers, and the delicate weight of Houmei’s cheek as he rested it against his shoulder, letting Toudai’s dark hair trickle over his face.

“Your hair feels like paintbrushes,” Houmei breathed. The heat of his words against his neck gave Toudai strange goosebumps. “Are you growing it out to remember something?”

“I am,” said Toudai. He waited for Houmei to ask what he wanted to remember. Houmei said nothing more, but wrapped his arms around Toudai’s shoulders, holding him for a long moment before pressing a kiss to his nape. After a moment, he sat back on his heels and went so silent Toudai looked over his shoulder to see what was the matter.

Houmei stared up at the sky, running his fingers through the long grass around him, stroking it as he had stroked Toudai’s hair.

“Why do you want to become a Sanzo?” Toudai asked him.

The sky was a blanket of silence stars thrown over them both. Houmei hesitated to disrupt it with something as trivial as words.

“Pinwheels,” he said.

“What?”

“I was thinking about them today. Actually, since the festival. I do a little origami, and I wanted to know if I could make a pinwheel myself, so I asked the vendor about them.”

“Did you even hear my question?”

“They’re pretty, don’t you think? They move with the wind, and sometimes they’re more than one color, they just make you smile when you see them. But really, they’re very simple. All you’d need is good paper, a push-pin and a pencil with an eraser. When I realized it, I got kind of depressed.”

“Why? I’m not following you at all.” Toudai couldn’t quite read Houmei’s expression in the amber flicker of the fire, but he was definitely more serious than usual.

“They’re not magical little flowers, or anything so mysterious and interesting. They just stand in one place, spinning whichever way the wind pushes them. Anyone at all could make a passable pinwheel. Even if the ones at the festival are prettier, they’re actually very ordinary.”

Toudai blinked at him. “So you were depressed because it was less... interesting or mysterious once you understood it?”

“I guess that’s it.” Houmei said with an exaggerated sigh. “Too bad. I was planning to buy one.”

Toudai grimaced. “You don’t have any money.”

“You would’ve bought one for me, wouldn’t you have, Toudai?” Houmei threw his arms around Toudai dramatically. “If I said please~?”

“I spent all my money on the crepe you didn’t eat, you weirdo!”

Houmei’s laughter rose up to dance with the stars.

~*~

Houmei woke up to a granite-colored sky several hours before dawn, shaken from his sleep by a deep rumbling in the earth. The tremors in the ground didn’t stop as he cleaned up camp, leaving the most impossible task - getting Toudai out of bed - for last. He achieved this by kicking Toudai about the head and shoulders several times. “Morning!” he called in his most cheerful and obnoxious voice. “It’s time to go now, no time for breakfast!”

Toudai groaned, and Houmei grabbed a handful of his hair. “Get up or I’ll cut it all off when you sleep!”

“What’s your problem?!” Toudai growled like a bear, shaken from his hibernation.

“The ground is like flan,” Houmei said. His stomach growled at the thought of the jiggly desert, but he busied himself with rolling up Toudai’s sleeping bag once he was out of it. Toudai stood as still and steady as the mountains around them, staring into the distance.

An unearthly roar split the air all around them. A great charcoal-black plume rose menacingly from one of the distant mountains, surrounded by swollen clouds of ash.

“I guess we’re not taking the mountain pass,” Houmei said.

“There are villages at the foot of those mountains,” Toudai said, tugging his rucksack over his shoulder.

“It’s too late for them,” Houmei pointed out. A pause. “Be reasonable.”

Toudai fixed him with a poisonous look. Imagine Houmei telling anyone to be reasonable! But he nodded after a moment. Houmei grabbed his hand and they ran. Their feet barely touched the ground, and later, Toudai realized Houmei had used an incantation for speed without uttering any words.

They might have outrun the mud slide if Toudai had kept the same intense focus Houmei did. But as they passed by a household that had shown them kindness a few days ago, Toudai let go of Houmei’s hand.

Houmei came to a stop a few meters ahead of him. “We can’t!”

“These people fed us!”

“Take my hand.”

“Hey!” Toudai shouted, running past the barn the family had let them sleep in, pounding on the walls of the house. He saw an orange cat clawing at the door through the window. He heard and felt the lahar before he really saw it - a wave of ash, mud and blasted-apart rocks that hit with more speed and force than an avalanche. Just as he saw the mudslide level the house in front of him, he was aware of arms closing around him, of a bright glow, and lips against his neck. Then nothing.

~*~

Toudai woke up with mud in places he hadn’t considered to be _places_ and a headache bad enough to be considered a natural disaster in its own right. Ash covered everything like chalky snow, but somehow, he was out of harm’s way. The farmers hadn’t made it. Neither had their cat, their pigs, their children. And the people at the bottom of the mountain... Toudai sat up and said a small prayer on their behalf. His rosary was missing.

Everything of theirs was missing. Houmei was kneeling in a nearby brook attempting to wash his hair. “It’s freezing!” he complained for Toudai’s benefit. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get the mud out of my hair.”

Toudai realized rather belatedly that Houmei was naked. They had not bathed together, and if he weren’t so exhausted, he might have quite enjoyed the sight of Houmei’s lean body. Instead, he wearily stripped himself and bathed in a stream that was probably mountain snow only a few miles ago.

Though it was cold, they remained nude after rinsing and pounding their robes on the rocks. They hung up the robes in trees like little flags of surrender. There was nothing to be done about the ash, and it was too damp to hope they’d dry in any useful amount of time. Night was coming fast but neither had moved to find food or make a fire. They sat together on the glacial rocks at the side of the creek. Toudai put his arm around Houmei.

“Do you think a Sanzo would have been able to stop that mudslide?” Toudai said after awhile.

Houmei replied, “Do you think the gods wanted that volcano to erupt?”

Toudai went quiet, remembering something. “What the hell were you thinking, using your magic like that? Is that even allowed? How did you get us out of there?”

Houmei leaned into him. “Next time you say thank you, use kinder words.”

“Thank you,” Toudai said after a moment. He cupped Houmei’s chin and kissed him gently. Something in Houmei’s eyes was sad. “You okay?”

Houmei shook his head no. Toudai kissed him again.

It was an impractical solution to their problem - one that created a mess, and bruised their backs from strange positions on rock formations. Still, it was all either of them could think of to do to spend the chaos that swirled inside them. Toudai took the lead, pulled Houmei into his lap. Kissing with tongue was colder than he thought it would be, tasted of spit and ash and the edge of what Toudai could have sworn was cigarette smoke. In spite their of tired, aching bodies, in spite of cold, their desire grew quickly. Houmei had a fascination with Toudai’s muscled chest and little oval nipples, pinching and squeezing them. He was similarly fascinated by Toudai’s ass, but Toudai was not about to broach that frontier. Instead, he distracted the smaller man with his mouth, tongue sliding over lithe collarbone, hipbone, then the fine jut of Houmei’s erection.

His skin was sweet, then salty beneath the sheen of mud and ash. Toudai quickly sucked Houmei to hardness. When the light-haired monk gripped his hair with curled fingers, Toudai almost smiled around his mouthful. At this very moment, nothing but Toudai could possibly exist to Houmei: there would be no daft out-of-the-blue remarks, there was no shadow of Sanzo trials or exploding mountains. Houmei was quieter than Toudai expected, especially when he came (a beautiful arch), but amidst those utterances Toudai recognized his name.

Houmei seemed energized by the orgasm rather than tired out, and with a small smirk climbed on top of Toudai, squeezing his legs around his hardness and riding his dick like that until Toudai coated his inner thighs with sticky white. Houmei lay on top of him for awhile after that. Something dark and scary was purged in their quick tryst. The world did not seem as cold.

“We’re going to stick if we don’t move,” Houmei said.

“I don’t want to get back in that stream.”

Houmei nodded, tucking his face against Toudai’s collarbone. “I despise the cold.”

“And yet you’re traveling to the Great Frost Temple.”

“A teacher once called me a contrarian.”

“Can’t disagree.”

Houmei wiggled upward to give Toudai a kiss. They lingered.

“We won’t be able to do this when we get there,” Toudai said.

“Get naked after almost dying in a mudslide?”

“I meant... what we just did. But I guess we can’t do _that_ either.

Houmei said lightly, “I don’t mind.”

Toudai thought Houmei might be lying, but maybe he was projecting. He liked how Houmei’s finely-boned body fit into his sturdy arms. They fit well together. Toudai wanted to keep holding him.

The smaller man’s breath went slow and steady. Toudai was sure he’d drifted off and was about the same when, Houmei’s voice emerged from the dark, hushed and meditative.

“We’re not pinwheels,” he said. “We’re more like paper airplanes.”

“I don’t get it. I don’t get _you_.”

“I don’t get you either,” Houmei said with a satisfied chuckle. “And I hope I never do.”

They kissed, unafraid of approaching darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> *I am planning a sequel to this story about when they are both Sanzo.  
> *I grew up with a love and fascination with the natural world and with geology, both of which are pretty apparent here. I also feel I should note I absolutely hate camping out.  
> *I originally titled the story 'Pinwheel' because I conceived it as a bright and pretty thing that would spin but not go anywhere.


End file.
